


Easy State Of Mind

by geekboyzayn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Shotgunning, high!ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekboyzayn/pseuds/geekboyzayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall over analyses things when he’s baked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy State Of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> There was a big lack of shotgunning ziall, and over all pot smoking in the ziall fandom. Thought I’d fix that with a drabble.

Niall thinks this is easy. Whatever this is. He thinks it’s easy when he’s just lying on the couch, all stretched out in his boxers. The heat makes his skin tinged pink, clammy and Niall can’t seem to mind, because it’s easy just lying there, not caring. And he thinks when he lights up that spliff he’d wrapped a few minutes back and hears the door to the backroom open, it’s even easier to ignore the heat.

He takes one deep breath in, one slow long pull from the joint and lies back on the couch. The smoke eases down his throat, filling his lungs and it’s smooth like cool water in his body. Small O’s lift from his mouth in rhythm to the steps that come up the hall, Niall thinks them like smoke signals and he can’t help but to laugh at the thought. He knows that there’ll be a pair of hazel eyes peering over the back of the couch soon and he knows exactly what their searching for, so Niall thinks his intentions are more based on that then the light headed feeling he’s slowly starting to get.

And like clockwork, Niall’s mid-way through a deep pull and there’s a shirtless form leaning over the back of the couch. Olive skin sleeked with a fine layer of sweat, with dark and light bangs plastered flat to a questioning brow. Niall pulls the joint from his lips, lifting it as an offering, but his hands shoved back and he’s smiling because he’s leaning up to meet with the mouth lowering down to him. And there is a meeting in the middle, a cloud of thick white smoke breathed out then inhaled. Noses bump each other and Niall thinks about pressing into the sharp angles a bit more.

Then there’s a heavy weight on top of the Irishman and slick bodies slide together with ease. This, now this is the real easy part. Niall will hold the blunt to Zayn’s pouting lips and he’ll watch the hollow of the older male’s cheeks as he draws in. His dick will twitch at the sight, because honestly, it’s always been a turn on and he can’t help himself. But there’s not enough time to react to it, instead his mind gets clouded like his lungs do with the warm smoke being forced into his mouth.

Niall sucks in all Zayn gives him and he knows there’s an innuendo in that, but all he can think is Zayn, more Zayn. He’s not sure how he holds out until the spliff is all smoked and discarded in the ashtray. He’s been grinding up into Zayn, desperate for friction, his hands already tucked under Zayn’s boxers, cupping his ass. And Niall is so hot and bothered and off the fucking planet that he can’t wait, but he doesn’t have to, because they both fall into this routine. The one where they’re both contently floatin’ and the heat in their apartment is like a cool breeze compared to the heat between them. It’s an easy routine and Niall loves the easy way.

Not everything is smooth sailing though. When Niall’s far enough gone he starts thinking about things he shouldn’t. Things like why he’s not out doing important things or visiting his family and what exactly this is. They’re best mates of course, roommates second, but the fact that in a minute he’s going to watch Zayn hollow out his cheeks around something far more personal than the spliff, he thinks their relationship might be a fair bit more complicated. And complication is a loathed subject in the Horan-Malik household.

And really there’s just no time for it, there’s time for food and sex and Zayn, but there is not enough time to figure out the fundamentals of whatever the last two really mean. So Niall’s quick to drop it because at some point between the beginning of his mental crisis and the end, Zayn’s done his job and slides back up Niall to settle himself in to the small crevice between the couch and the Irish lad. He’s got this proud grin on his face and his pupils are blown so wide it looks like a halo of gold around them. Niall wants to say something, wills himself to speak on the subject of what exactly that blow job entitled but Zayn murmurs something along the lines of ‘I love you, Nialler’ and the blonde clams up instantly.

Zayn says it every time and every time Niall can’t function. Friendship is easy, but he can’t help but to think this might not just be friendship. Of course he should probably say something, probably return the gesture, but he can’t, he doesn’t know how. He just lies there, let’s Zayn in, holds him closely and waits for him to pass out, because high Zayn tends to get sleepy after sexual acts. Niall knows this, it’s become familiar and he’s freaking out subconsciously because of it. Well that or the post-oral-and-cannabis high that he’s sporting is messing with his mind; he can never really tell.

Which means he might just be reading too far into this and making himself paranoid, but it can’t hurt to be a little bit worried or fretful. Niall should be worried; worried he’s giving out signals he doesn’t know. Then again, he might be giving out signals he wants to give out. He likes this, likes being with Zayn, living with him, fucking him on the rare occasion, smoking with him daily. He never gets a resistance from the Bradford lad and he likes that, likes it a lot. He can be Niall Horan, the absolute cheese-head, because Zayn seems to like that.

So like usual, Niall gives up his inner battle on ‘the meaning’ and wraps his arms around the warm body beside him, snuggling closer, intertwining their legs. They’ll cuddle for a good hour, snuggle out their high and then one of their stomachs will growl and it’ll be an unspoken invitation to go get something to eat. They’re not dating, just somewhere in between and it’s easy in between, like soft smoke between two mouths.


End file.
